I pulled up the gravel road to the address indicated on the computer back at the store, 214 Birch Tree Lane. Upon arriving, I noticed there was nothing there but an empty lot. No building, no furniture, not even a tent perched in a far corner of the lot. I put my car, a beat-up Buick LeSabre, in park and got out, stepping out on to the gravel to inspect the place, or the absence thereof. Ahead of me, there appeared to be remnants of some possible structure, but the debris was far too burned and degraded to make that assessment. Was there a fire here? How long ago did it happen?

Falcon Ortega, as far as I knew, was still alive. He was at my store only a few hours ago, and this site sure looked like it burned down a lot longer ago than that. I stepped onto the empty lot and looked around at the debris, trying to make sense of it all.

Why did Candyman contact me?

What role was I to play in whatever he referred to?

What did Falcon Ortega, that weird hippie guy, have to do with this?

And why did I smell smoke all of a sudden?

Indeed, a waft of burning something enveloped me, and I began to look around at the debris to find the source. The lot looked like it had been long burned only a few moments ago, but as I searched, I did indeed find a small ember towards the center of the debris field. As I stepped in closer, the ember appeared to grow in size and brightness. Soon, I was hunched down over the top of it, peering at it closely, as the embers rapidly began appearing around me, just like the first did. Looking back at the original ember, it appeared to be growing even hotter, then actually caught fire.

Sensing something seriously screwed up was happening, I started to make my way off the debris, but was startled by an intense heat that suddenly fell upon my back. I glanced behind me and found the core structure not only standing, but completely ablaze. At that point, I just picked up and ran out of the once-empty lot at full speed. I barely made it off the foundation of the lot when something big took my feet out from underneath me and flipped me forward onto the front lawn, dropping me on my head. Everything went dark, then black.

Sensation returned to me, and I felt the grass prickling against my face. I was on the ground, face down, with the worst headache I ever had up to that point. Somehow I managed to gain some composure, and I blinked my eyes open. The overwhelming heat was gone. The roar of the fire was gone. I pulled myself to my feet and dusted myself off, and turned around to find the unbelievable.

There stood before me a fully constructed, undamaged two-story house. A gardening shed was attached to one side of the house, and there were even flower boxes (complete with blossoming flowers) hanging from the wrap-around front porch. I blinked again, trying to make what had to be a hallucination go away, but it persisted. This house was here, untouched, defiant to the laws of nature. There was no way this could be happening.

Then again, I also met Candyman earlier. So take that with a grain of salt.

Just to be sure this wasn't some illusion, or that I was drugged, or something else could possibly be making me experience something that couldn't happen, I slowly walked the perimeter of the house. I just had to make myself come to grips with what appeared to be a burned down, then un-burned down house.

After inspecting the outside and finding (surprisingly) no fault with it, I warily climbed the steps of the front porch, and approached the front door. As soon as I stepped up to it, I heard a definite click, and then a piercing screech as the door crept open on its own. From my vantage point on the stoop of the house, I could see a standard layout of domesticated belongings. Hardwood floor. Dated, but well kept furniture. Decent drapes hanging from lofty windows. It appeared to be safe. But I wasn't stupid.

Well, in retrospect, "stupid" wouldn't even begin to describe my coming actions, so relatively speaking, at that point, I wasn't stupid, I guess.

"Hello? Falcon Ortega?" I don't know why I thought there might be a person inside the house that just rose like a phoenix from the ashes, but it seemed like the right thing to ask at the time. "Are you there? Is anybody in there?"

From behind me, a low, raspy voice spoke, and the breath hit the back of my neck like a blowtorch, and it still gave me chills.

"I'm sorry. The Ortegas aren't here right now. They went out for stir fry."

I whipped around, and came nose to nose with sheer terror. He wore black pants and black shoes (both badly worn), a slim red-and-black sweater, and a black fedora. What skin his clothes didn't cover was burned beyond the point that medicine could help. And his left hand was gloved, and each finger tipped by insanely long blades.

Freddy. Krueger.

He brought that hand up to his face and licked the blade jutting from his index finger. "And as it turns out, I'm a hell of a cook," he growled. "Care to see?"

On that note, I bolted right, ran down the porch, and hopped the rail, tumbling onto the grass. I quickly regained my footing and continued, back to my LeSabre. As I reached my car, I turned back to see no one chasing me, and Krueger was gone. No trace left behind whatsoever. I got in my car and started it, threw the gear in reverse, and began to roll out when my back driver-side tire blew out. Almost immediately, the back passenger-side tire blew as well, then the front passenger-side tire. Finally the tire closest to me blew, the whole process taking only a few seconds. I sat in terrified silence, waiting for something to happen, and a loud tapping on my window broke that silence.

"Where do you think you're going? It's bad manners to run out on a perfectly civil conversation!"

Krueger's gruesome smile greeted me as his breath fogged the glass. He reached up with his free hand, grabbed the roof of my car, and ripped it cleanly off with relative ease. He reached into the car, grabbed me by my collar, and chucked me out into the yard, where I landed on my back, losing my breath. Krueger approached me, then stood over me, staring down over his sinister sweater.

"Listen, meatsack, and listen good. You go back and tell Captain Hook he can shove it up his ass! I'm not giving it back, no matter what! And there's nothing you, he, or anyone else can do about it. I'm Freddy fuckin' Krueger! I do what I want, when I want, and how I want to do it. Understood?"

I assumed by Captain Hook, Krueger was referring to Candyman. What could Krueger have that Candyman wants so badly? And how did Krueger get it?

Trembling, I nodded frantically, praying Krueger wouldn't turn me into ribbons and decorate a tree with my remains. He crouched down over me, and leaned in really close, so much so that I could see the muscle fibers in his face. "Good. I won't kill you yet," Krueger explained. "Because I want you to tell Candyman this. I want you to tell him… if he wants it back, he can come and get it."

Then, he bounced up, jumped back away from me, and waved with his blade hand, the kind of wave that uses each finger individually. He then reached back and slashed at the air, but cut open a massive hole… into nothing. This tear was suspended in mid-air, and showed someplace else through it, sort of like some mirror world, but not really. Krueger then jumped through, and the tear faded away, into nothing again. The maniac was gone.

After calling a taxi to get a ride home (which cost me an arm and a leg), I walked into my room and flopped onto the bed. I wanted to take time to reflect back upon what happened during my day, but I was afraid that if I thought about it, something related to it might happen again. I didn't know what powers were at work here, but I wasn't trying to make any waves that could draw attention to myself.

Finally, a thought occurred to me. I needed to make a phone call. My buddy Seth was my comrade-in-harm, my scare buddy. We had grown up together, and our collective hobby was scary movies. If anybody could help me make heads or tails of this, it would be Seth. I looked though my phone for his number and dialed it.

"Uh, hello?"

"Seth, it's me."

"Oh, hey bro. What's up?"

"We need to talk. I need your help."

"You okay, man? You sound shaken up. What happened?"

"Just get to my place. I'll explain when you get here."

"Um… okay. Sure thing. Gimme 20."

I clicked my phone off and tossed it on my bed. Then I drifted off to sleep, exhausted.

Seth woke me up shortly thereafter, joking about how Freddy was going to get me in my dreams. I replied dryly, "Ha. Ha," and rolled out of bed. "Dude if you only knew…"

"Yeah, right. Freddy'sreallygonna get you while you're sleeping. Sure."

I stared at Seth blankly.

"You're kidding… right?"

"Actually, that's what I needed to talk to you about." I recounted the day's events for him. Ortega. Candyman. Crazy unburned house. Krueger. I tried my best not to leave out a single detail. Seth flung his hands in the air wildly, and then plopped down onto my bed, staring off into space. After a moment, he looked over at me, with a bit more gravity.

"So… if I'm understanding correctly," Seth began. "And assuming you're not on LSD or something, then the situation is: Candyman has drafted you to get back something from Freddy Krueger, and this Ortega guy is involved somehow? What the jumping monkey fuck?"

I responded, "Close. Somebody sent Candyman to draft me. There's somebodygiving orders to Candyman.That's the scary part. I can't even fathom that." Seth took a deep breath, finally coming to grips with my situation. "Well, I suppose there's only one more thing to do. We gotta contact Candyman, and give him the news."

"No, no. Fuck that. I'm not going to actually make the guy come here. I want nothing to do with that." I stood up and walked away from Seth, shaking my head the whole way. "They can have their little disagreement without me."

Seth stood as well and put his hands on his hips. "It seems to me that you don't have a choice. Because your options are a hook or a glove, and neither ends well for you. So you gotta do this, man. And I'll help you."

I looked back at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

"Besides, how often do you get to live a horror movie? It's gotta be awesome right?"